


The Boy and His Piano

by peralinthebuilding



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Allegory, Alternate Universe, Emotional, Fandom, Gen, No Dialogue, Personal Experience, descriptive, ig ?, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:16:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25916467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peralinthebuilding/pseuds/peralinthebuilding
Summary: In the middle of the square, was a grand piano. Standing proudly, alone among the grey flagstones it was resting upon. It was the most magnificent when it was opened, and its lid uncovered the treasure inside. When you could see the whole mechanism. Each hammer hitting the golden cords in harmony to create the most exquisite melodies.That was the reason everyone gathered once a week on the plaza. Everyone wanted to see the boy and his piano.
Kudos: 6





	The Boy and His Piano

**Author's Note:**

> Hi~ This one means a lot to me so thanks a lot for being here. It was inspired by a wip by the very talented @raithe_art on twitter, I'll put the link to the tweet in the end notes.
> 
> Hope you enjoy~

Ever since I moved to this new town, life wasn’t dull anymore. There was always something happening, you never got bored. Whatever you liked to do, you would find something here, and other people to do it with. You could find friends, family, and even love. You could ask a stranger and they’d happily help you. The city welcomed me like a warm hug. Unfortunately, I knew some people have had a hard time, unlike me. There were a few districts known not to be very safe… No city was immaculately perfect after all.

Each day I walked the streets. Those beautiful streets, with the white stone walls. The pavements under my feet evened out by the many people who walked here before I did. The shops and houses bubbling with life. People talking with each other, laughing. The newcomers still a bit lost, wandering the streets, asking for directions, and the old residents who could navigate with their eyes closed.   
Sometimes, while walking, I could hear screaming in the distance. Fights. I never dared to approach too much. Whenever I did, to try to help ease the conflict and defend who I believe was right, I got hurt. So even if it pained me, I watched from the sidelines. People screaming at each other, all sorts of profanities were thrown during those times. When it got too much, I went back home. Safe. My neighborhood was a peaceful one thankfully, nothing really happened here, but sometimes words of fight traveled to our houses.

I had a little stall near the markets. It wasn’t very well known but it didn’t matter. I was only trying to share stories, happiness, and kind words. I wanted it to be a place where people could come share their stories or take a little break if they needed to. If thunder was raging outside, I’d gladly open my doors and welcome anyone who needs a refuge from the rain. Most of the time I’d visit my neighbors to spend some time with them or they would visit me. They all became good friends over time. 

After a while, I even was hired to help build one of the bigger shops, in the city center. They had the perfect project for me, and I was so happy to be of help. A lot of people were already waiting for the grand opening. I hoped dearly that our hard work would meet their expectations. 

But there was something I loved in this town, more than anything else. Each week, everyone gathered in the city’s main square. It was a huge empty space in the middle of the buildings. Like a clearing in the densest forest. Columns of white stone, placed in a circle around the plaza, held up the dome ceiling. It was made of glass entirely so the sun could go through, but the rain could not. Across the square, ropes were hung up from a pillar to its opposite on the other side. The threads were decorated with all sorts of colorful flowers: azaleas, orchids, lilies, petunias, and others I couldn’t name. The plants swirled around each other across the square, creating a second ceiling, colorful with warm reds, and cool purples.

In the middle of the square, was a piano. Standing proudly, alone among the grey flagstones it was resting upon. It was a grand piano. Its deep ebony color seemed black during the day, but as soon as the sun set, and its orange rays hit the wood, gleams of gold were appearing. Swirling on its surface like reflections on the water. The piano showed its shine only once the sun was setting and letting the moon take over. But it was the most magnificent when it was opened, and its lid uncovered the treasure inside. When you could see the whole mechanism. Each hammer hitting the golden cords in harmony to create the most exquisite melodies.

That was the reason everyone gathered once a week on the plaza. Everyone wanted to see the boy and his piano. Everyone wanted to see him play and listen to his music. When the week was nearing its end, he was the talk of the town. When will he come? What will he play? And when the first notes of his piano were heard, people rushed to the square to see him. It was the only moment of the week where no fights were heard, there was nothing but peace in the city. His notes acting as a remedy to all the aches in the world. People sat on the pavement around the piano, shielded from the rain by the ceiling above and shielded from the pain by the melody of love.

It was only an hour in the week, but everyone was looking forward to it. Some couldn’t always be here when he played, but still, he’d come back for them, next week and the week after. He could stop whenever he wished. He didn’t have to come and play but he did, even when he was tired, even when he was busy. He took an hour of his day to come and play for the city. It was a magical moment that residents grew to appreciate even more as times passed by.

On some days, flowers would shed their petals and the wind made them dance to the music around the square. Mesmerizing colors, flowing between the people bringing in their sweet scent to the hair, making the atmosphere even more magical. Each time was unique. Sometimes he would play during the day, with the sun rays reflecting on the golden threads. Sometimes he’d play while the rain was hammering against the roof, his chime being the only source of warmth. He’d play under the moonlight, or with flower petals dancing in the night. Each time was unique and magical in its own way.

But the most magical one was the most recent one. We heard the few notes and all rushed to the square, smiles on our faces. What a surprise it was when we saw the piano was alone. Empty. No one to graze the keys. Still, they were playing themselves. The piano played but the pianist was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly the melody was louder, warmer, more powerful. Its notes sipping through your body like a warm blanket on a cold winter night. We weren’t listening to the song anymore, we were feeling it. It spoke to our souls and hearts, making in even more special. Under the setting sun, everyone stayed silent. Some closed their eyes. We couldn’t see him tonight but it didn’t mean he wasn’t here to play for us. I wish someday, we could play for him in return.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.  
> This is a very personal approach and allegory of the Stay fandom. I understand not many will relate to it but I wanted to share this and how I feel about what I lived as a Stay. As you probably guessed it, this is mainly focused on Chan's room and how it's a little haven for a lot of us. Last episode (68) hit harder than the other... I hope we'll be able to play for Chan one day to give him back all the love he gave us.  
> Inspiration below.  
> @raithe_art second picture ► https://twitter.com/raithe_art/status/1287912036228358144  
> I hope you enjoyed it ♥  
> You can always find me on twitter : @chandromeda


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